The Power Within
by grand admiral chelli
Summary: After the events of OOTP, Harry has had enough. He turns in his wand, and says goodbye to the life he once knew. Six months later, the Founders show up claiming Harry is their heir. Harry is not pleased. Chapter 4 UP!
1. The Founders

Disclaimer: I own nothing. You know the deal.  
  
Summary: After the events of OOTP, Harry has had enough. He turns in his wand, bids Dumbledore goodbye, and says goodbye to the life he once knew. Six months later, his non-magical peace is disturbed by the appearance of the founders of Hogwarts, who claim Harry is their heir. Harry, however, has had enough of people controlling his life.  
  
The Power Within  
  
Summer before Sixth year:  
  
"So what you're telling me, essentially, is that I have some hidden power that will allow me to defeat Voldemort."  
  
"That is correct."  
  
"And you want me to try and discover what this power is, so that I can use it properly when the time comes."  
  
"Precisely."  
  
"ARE YOU INSANE?"  
  
Albus Dumbledore winced and covered his ears. He should have been expecting this, really, but he hadn't remembered how loud that boy could yell. He sighed and plastered a serene expression on his face, giving the impression that he was completely calm, which would hopefully calm the young man in front of him down. "Not to my knowledge," he said brightly, "Sherbet lemon?"  
  
The boy ignored his offer. His mind was still whirling with the insanity of everything that was going on in his severely messed up life. "I can't stand it anymore, Professor. I just can't." The one thing he'd promised himself he'd never do was be weak in front of his headmaster - he didn't want sympathy - but that was exactly what Harry Potter was doing at this very moment.  
  
Dumbledore put a hand on Harry's shoulder, and pulled the troubled teenager into a hug. "I know it's hard, my boy, but this is a burden you must bear, as much as I wish you didn't have to."  
  
"Sometimes I just wish I could relive my life. Everything happens to me!"  
  
Knowing it was true, Dumbledore didn't respond.  
  
Finally Harry made a decision. "You know what? I'm tired of everything. I can't stand it anymore. I quit." Dumbledore looked up in alarm.  
  
"You quit what?"  
  
Harry sighed. "Everything. I'm tired of being the Boy-Who-Lived. I'm tired of all these adventures I go on. I'm tired of watching EVERY SINGLE PERSON I LOVE DIE BECAUSE OF ME!"  
  
"Harry, I-"  
  
"I'm going now," Harry interrupted coldly, "and I don't want to ever hear from you, or anyone else for that matter, again." He stepped towards the fireplace and retrieved a handful of floo powder from a nearby flowerpot. Turning back to Dumbledore, he whispered sadly, "I'm sorry, but I have to do this. My life just isn't my own, staying here."  
  
Dumbledore watched sadly as Harry reverently placed his wand on Dumbledore's desk, along with his key to Gringotts and his trunk (shrunken, of course). "You truly are leaving then, Harry?"  
  
Harry smiled for the first time in the encounter. "I have to, Professor. There's only one thing I've ever wanted to be. Just me. Just Harry. I can't be that here - only in the muggle world."  
  
"You would rather spend your time with your Aunt and Uncle then here? You have admitted yourself that you dislike them."  
  
"Oh, I hate them, no doubt about that, but at least they don't try to control my life. At least with them, my life won't include or end in murder."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "No matter where you go, Harry Potter, you will always be the Boy-Who-Lived, the one spoken of in the prophecy. You can't escape your destiny, my boy, you can only run from it."  
  
Harry smiled coldly. "Well, then I'll just have to run, won't I? Farewell, professor. Tell Hermione and Ron . . . tell them that I'll miss them, but that they shouldn't contact me."  
  
Dumbledore could feel the tears welling in his eyes. "Tell them yourself, child."  
  
"If I did that, I might be tempted to stay. Goodbye."  
  
And with a flash of green fire, Harry Potter was gone.  
  
.::.  
  
Six months later. . .  
  
"Damn to hell whoever thought up chemistry!" Harry yelled in frustration, swearing as he crumpled up yet another failed attempt at a lab report. This was his sixth so far, and it was due the next day.  
  
As could be expected, Harry's transition from magical to muggle life hadn't been smooth sailing. The Dursleys had been furious, what with having to put up with their nephew for an extra ten months each year, and the school system was beyond frustrated, seeing as Harry hadn't been to muggle school since he was eleven. He'd only recently caught up, through hours and hours of study, with his current grade (11), but to his dismay he still found himself swamped with work. It seemed he'd really underestimated the difficulty of muggle high school, and he'd even been tempted once or twice to give up and go back to Hogwarts. Then he'd remembered the prophecy, and what awaited him if he chose to return to the magical world. Needless to say, Harry chose to remain in muggle high school.  
  
Life wasn't that bad, really. He'd made some friends, passed some assignments, and had only flunked a few tests. Most importantly, though, he was being treated just like everyone else. Like a normal kid, not some wizarding hero destined to save the world for. . . what was it? The sixth time? So yes, Harry was happy with his new life, and was finally discovering the joy of being admired for simply being who you are, and not for the title you are given.  
  
However, we are talking about Harry Potter here, and this means that his life, like it always has, is about to become infinitely more complex.  
  
.::.  
  
Harry collapsed on his bed with a sigh. He was FINALLY done that damn chemistry lab report, and now he could finally get the sleep he'd been craving for the past four nights. He should have realized that this would never happen.  
  
As Harry packed up his materials, eyeing his bed longingly, he was momentarily blinded by a golden flash of light that seemed to come out of nowhere. Narrowing his eyes, Harry scanned his completely normal bedroom, but he couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.  
  
Another flash came, this time a green one, and then another came in blue, with the final flash being a bright red. Harry immediately deduced that there was magic at work here, and also knew that he'd had enough. He didn't care why or what these flashes of light were, and as soon as the cause of them revealed themselves to him, Harry would just tell them to F-off, even if it were the founders of Hogwarts. He'd had enough of magic.  
  
One final flash came, a mixture of all four colours, and out of the bright light came four figures, two male, two female. As the light died down, Harry could see that the first man was wearing red, the second wearing green, the first woman wearing blue. . . it didn't take him long to realize that these four where in fact the four founders of Hogwarts. Although all were smiling happily once they'd caught sight of Harry, Harry was fuming. No matter how hard he tried, people always found a way to control his destiny, and he'd had enough.  
  
"Greetings Harry Potter. I am Godric Gryffin-"  
  
"Get out," Harry demanded, eyeing his four intruders with annoyance. He didn't care that he was ordering perhaps the four greatest wizards in two millennia out of his house. He was past caring. "Get out."  
  
Helga Hufflepuff smiled shyly. "Harry dear, I know that you must be fairly shocked at all this-"  
  
"Oh, believe me lady, I'm not shocked. You four are the founders of Hogwarts. Either you or your souls have somehow managed to travel through time, purely for the purpose of meeting me, the great Harry Potter."  
  
"We've come to speak with you-"  
  
"Dammit, does it look like I care?! All four of you can go get stuffed, for all I care! I thought I'd made it perfectly clear that I've left the wizarding world. I'm done with magic! Finished! So, as much as I hate to say it to such fine, meddlesome people as yourselves, WOULD YOU PLEASE GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!"  
  
The four looked shocked beyond belief. After all, they were the founders of Hogwarts, and some of the most respected people in the history of humanity. Rowena Ravenclaw puffed up, her hands on her hips, and snapped, "Young man, you may have had troubles in the past, but that gives you no right to yell at us without provocation!"  
  
Harry glared at the dark haired woman furiously. "Without provocation! You think I wasn't provoked! You barge into my room with no respect at all, and expect me to welcome you with open arms because you are the great four founders! What do you want me to do? Bow down to you? Kiss your shoes? I've already tried respecting people who didn't earn it, and look where that got me! My godfather dead, and an evil dark wizard on the loose who, incidentally, is also out to get me!"  
  
Godric, Helga and Rowena looked very sorrowful, as if pitying Harry for the hardships he'd endured. Salazar, however, didn't seem impressed in the slightest.  
  
"Well, boy, you'll have to excuse our intruding. We wouldn't have bothered to spend five years creating a time travelling device, at the cost of many lives, and then traveled here, braving fire and storm and shadow, if we had known that you didn't want to see us." Slytherin drawled sarcastically, piercing Harry with a dark glare.  
  
Harry, however, simply sighed. "At the cost of many lives, you say? Great. Even more people dead because of little old me."  
  
Slytherin scoffed. "Stop your self pity for one second, boy, and listen to us. We didn't travel through time just for fun, you know."  
  
It was obvious that these obnoxious people wouldn't go away, no matter what Harry did. And Harry definitely wanted them to leave and never come back, because he knew without a doubt that they were here to give him some mysterious power or information that ONLY he could possibly use, because of who he was. How did he know? The answer was rather obvious really - why else would the founders have wasted their time to see him? Harry knew, however, that he didn't have much chance in convincing them to leave, and he certainly couldn't duel all four of them, so with a sigh of defeat Harry plopped down on his bed and turned his eyes to Gryffindor.  
  
"Alright, oh great Founder, tell me whatever you like, and then leave, because you've outstayed your welcome."  
  
Godric smiled sympathetically at him. "Mr. Potter, we have traveled through time to tell you that you are our heir."  
  
Harry moaned and clutched his head in his hands. "I figured as much."  
  
"Indeed," Rowena added, and went on to explain the insanely complex reason behind how Harry came to be their heir. Harry knew without doubt that God was purposely doing this just to make his life harder. How else could his mother (who was muggle-born), be indirectly related to the second cousin of Salazar Slytherin's sister? The chances were so minute that Harry's head spun just thinking about it.  
  
"Fine. So I'm your heir. Yippee. So now I'm supposing I'm supposed to be all happy, and then you tell me about all the powers I've gained, and a whole bunch of arcane information flows through my brain, and I get photographic memory, and my eyesight is cured, and-"  
  
"Would you like us to tell you, or do you want to keep on guessing?" Rowena demanded crossly.  
  
Slytherin laughed harshly. "You may as well let the boy continue. He's already three quarters of the way there."  
  
Harry moaned again. "Why me?" he thought sadly. Rowena for some reason smiled. "Fate can seem pretty twisted sometimes, Harry, but everything that happens is always done for a reason."  
  
Harry groaned. "You're a telepath. I'm assuming that means I'm telepathic?"  
  
Rowena smiled. "Indeed. You will also become a multi-magus, an Elemental, a metamorphmagus-"  
  
"NO!" Harry shouted wildly, jumping to his feet. His four ancestors stared at him in shock. "NO! I'm tired of being special, I'm tired of being famous! I don't want your powers, I want you to leave and never come back! Just leave me alone!" And with these words, Harry sprinted past the stunned four, through the open bedroom door, and out of sight.  
  
Slytherin suppressed a groan. "I assume this means that we're going to have to chase him?" Helga nodded, causing Slytherin to curse loudly.  
  
"Why can't children ever just accept anything? They're always fighting, fighting, fighting. Nothing is ever good enough for them!"  
  
"I think the real problem is that Harry isn't like other children. He's been fighting all his life, and he's tired of it. I think he just wants to be alone." Helga said sadly, and all four stopped to ponder her words.  
  
"Well, we can't just let him get away," Godric decided finally. "He's our heir, whether he likes it or not, and we have to transfer our powers to him before the final battle with Voldemort, or else he's done for!"  
  
"I thought that he was supposed to battle Voldemort with love!" Helga protested.  
  
"How can Harry love anyone if he's not able to love himself?" Rowena asked wisely. The other three regarded her in confusion. "What?"  
  
She regarded them as if they were ignorant school children. Her expression was actually quite similar to Hermione's, when she was lecturing Harry and Ron about some fact that they should have already known. "Harry is our heir, like you said, whether he likes it or not. It's part of who he is. If he can't accept that, and therefore accept himself, then he cannot love himself. Does that make sense?"  
  
Godric frowned in thought. "So you are saying that Harry cannot truly love anyone until he loves himself - all of himself - first?"  
  
"Apparently," Salazar agreed, "and you are also saying that until Potter learns to love others, he cannot possibly kill the Dark Lord?"  
  
"That's the general gist of it, yes, although how exactly he's to kill Voldemort with LOVE, I've no idea."  
  
Helga smiled cheerfully. You'll notice that she is generally the most optimistic of the four. "Well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. The most important thing now is to find our runaway heir, and convince him to accept his powers."  
  
Salazar looked worried for the first time. "I don't think it can be done. That boy has developed a great hatred for those who would try to control and shape his life. He thinks that we're trying to lay on him even more responsibilities and destinies then he's already got."  
  
Rowena sighed. "Well, we'll just have to try our best."  
  
"Indeed. And if we fail, we're all doomed," Salazar drawled humorlessly.  
  
"Our descendants, anyway."  
  
"Joy."  
  
.::.  
  
A/N - So, what do you think? Stupid, smart, ridiculous, humorous? Tell me! Even flames are welcome - well, not really, but you get my meaning, right? If you'd prefer a more conventional fic, try reading "Harry Potter and the Dream Come True", by yours truly. REVIEW! 


	2. Stonewall High

Disclaimer: I own nothing!  
  
The Power Within  
  
Chapter Two – Stonewall High  
  
Harry ran. And ran. As far as his exhausted body could take him away from the house that had been a living hell the first eleven years of his life, and now held a quartet who Harry feared above all else. They offered him power, knowledge, a way to kill the man who'd plagued his dreams for five years. . . but at what cost? When he'd turned over his wand and walked away from the wizarding world six months ago, he'd meant every harsh word he'd exchanged with Hogwarts' esteemed Headmaster. He was DONE with magic, DONE with standing by helplessly as friends died, and he was DONE with being the Boy-who-lived. And no time-travelling, super-powerful, gift-bearing quartet were going to weaken his resolve.  
  
"Just where do you think you're going, young man?" a stern voice snapped suddenly. Harry, taken by surprise, crashed right into the owner of the voice, sending them both sprawling. Hastily pushing himself upright, Harry reached down and, wincing, helped the person he'd crashed into to their feet.  
  
"Well well, it seems Salazar was wrong. You DO have some manners, hmm?" the person remarked, and Harry, recognizing her as Rowena Ravenclaw, jerked away. Backing away from the blue-clad woman, Harry took deep breaths, slowing his racing heartbeat, and slowly took in his surroundings.  
  
He'd apparently made it all the way to Thorn Street, before he'd encountered Ravenclaw and had been sent sailing into Crabapple Park. Harry'd been to the park occasionally – it was only a block from his new muggle school, Stonewall – and noted without much thought the beaten-down swings and broken slide that were a typical feature of parks in his neighborhood.  
  
"Much more respectful now, eh?" a deep, masculine voice rang out from behind Harry, and he spun around to discover Gryffindor lazily leaning against the slide, chocolate eyes twinkling.  
  
"You!" Harry demanded. "What are you doing here? I thought I made it clear I want nothing to do with you!" He now noticed the other two founders he'd previously missed – Slytherin was lying on a low stone wall, propped up by his elbow, and Hufflepuff was standing next to the man, beaming. Why wouldn't people just leave him alone?  
  
"You are Harry Potter, lad. You're destined for greatness, whether you like it or not." Ravenclaw stated, taking a step towards Harry.  
  
"Argh! Enough with the bloody mind reading already! I don't care about being your heir, I don't care about whatever powers you want to give me, and I don't care about being the boy-who-lived! Go give your powers to someone who wants them! I've tried playing the hero and look how that turned out!"  
  
"Don't you raise your voice to me!" Ravenclaw snapped, apparently the voice of the group. "You're our heir, and you'll like it!"  
  
Harry's eyes narrowed. "I don't want your powers, and I never will. You're wasting your time, I'm afraid." With that, Harry turned and stalked towards the street, but was cut off by Gryffindor, who blocked his way. "Would you get out of my way?" Harry snapped irritably. "I'm tired, pissed off, and have an English essay due tomorrow I haven't started yet. Don't mess with me."  
  
The founders exchanged a glance. Harry, satisfied they finally got the idea, side-stepped around Gryffindor and continued down Thorn Street. He only stopped when he realized the quartet were following him. He rounded on them furiously. "Ahh! I told you I don't want your dumb powers! When will you leave me alone?"  
  
"When you agree to accept the powers." Helga explained cheerfully. "Until then, we'll follow you to make sure you don't hurt yourself."  
  
"Or do something stupid," Slytherin added. Harry clenched his fists, trying desperately not to attack these arrogant, annoying people who wouldn't leave him alone. Why wouldn't they just let him go back to his miserable existence in peace? With a sigh, Harry sank down to the sidewalk.  
  
"Fine," he snapped irritably. "Follow me all you like, but it won't do any good. I'm too stubborn for my own good, just ask Hermione, she'll tell you . . ." Bad idea. Thinking about Hermione brought up feelings of guilt for leaving the wizarding world to fend for itself. New topic. "Just out of interest, how did you find me?"  
  
Ravenclaw beamed. "I knew it! You're interested in learning to use your powers!"  
  
Harry glared at her. "I am not! Are you saying you used some weird power to find me?"  
  
"But of course, boy! As a telepath, I simply located your mind, planted a mental tracking device of sorts, and just followed it to you."  
  
Harry sighed. "I suppose this means I can't hide or get away from you four, right?"  
  
Slytherin smirked. "There is that, yes. Of course, you could just accept the powers, and we'd leave you alone." Harry was tempted for a moment, before mentally hitting himself. Don't give in! It appeared the resistance thing wasn't working. Well, he'd just have to try something else, wouldn't he?  
  
A brilliant idea suddenly struck Harry.  
  
"Fine," he said nonchalantly. "Stick around if you like. I'm going home, to bed, so save your speeches for tomorrow."  
  
Hufflepuff smiled. "Does that mean you'll listen to our words tomorrow?"  
  
Harry grinned. "Who knows? All I know is that you four are going to have run away screaming by the end of tomorrow, and I'll be free to live in peace."  
  
Gryffindor arched an eyebrow. "Why is that?"  
  
"You obviously know nothing about modern times, sir. Tomorrow I'm going to HIGH SCHOOL. MUGGLE high school, no less. If you can survive a day there, then you're braver than I give you credit for. Night." Satisfied, Harry darted off into the night, contemplating a life free of guilt, free of death, and free of these annoying, extremely respected and important people who just wouldn't leave him alone.  
  
Godric turned to Rowena in confusion. "High school? Is that supposed to scare us?"  
  
Slytherin shrugged. "I suspect we're about to find out."  
  
.::.  
  
". . . and take the trash out too, boy! You forget to do it again, and you won't get food for a week!" Uncle Vernon bellowed after Harry as he dashed out the front door, dodging a dishtowel Aunt Petunia had swatted at him with. "Dinner's at six, boy, so don't be late, or you won't be getting any! I don't know why we bother with him, Petunia, he shouldn't even be here now, he should be at that freak school . . ."  
  
Sighing, Harry hoisted his old, mangled backpack onto his shoulder, grabbed the garbage can and dragged it down to the end of the driveway. Checking his watch, Harry muffled a frustrated curse. He was going to be late for school again! Today, of all days, when he had a Drama presentation first period! And to top it all off, as Harry trudged back up the driveway, he spotted four figures crossing the lawn towards him, two wearing ornate, frilly dresses that could only mean one thing – the Founders' arrival hadn't been a figment of his imagination.  
  
"Still here, are you?" he demanded half-heartedly as he pulled out his key, unlocked the door of a rusty old Ford Anglia and climbed in. He'd bought the car for ten pounds off a next-door neighbor when it broke down "beyond repair", but after the gaining of a driver's license and a quick visit to Harry's shop teacher at school, the car was now in fairly-decent working condition. He stuck the key in the ignition and prepared to back out of the driveway when he realized the quartet were standing a good ten feet away from the car with fearful expressions on their faces.  
  
"What's wrong?" Harry inquired in interest as Hufflepuff squeaked and hid behind Gryffindor, who patted her shoulder comfortingly, although he too seemed nervous.  
  
"Harry," Ravenclaw stated in tones of forced calm. "I want you to stay perfectly still. We four will stun the beast on the count of three, and you will hopefully be able to jump out of its mouth without sustaining too much damage."  
  
Harry stared. They thought his car was a . . . beast? And that he had been, what?, eaten by it? Actually, he reflected, that made a lot of sense, coming from four people who'd lived a millennia ago.  
  
"Three, two, one, STUPEFY!" the four shouted, and the car rocked on it's tires slightly as the four jets of light struck it's side. Ravenclaw stared in disbelief, apparently under the belief the "beast" was still alive. "Again! STUPE-"  
  
"STOP!" Harry yelled, jumping out of the car and standing protectively in front of his ride. "Don't curse my car! It's not alive, it's just made out of metal, see?" He rapped on the door to prove his point, but the quartet weren't listening.  
  
"Harry, my lad, step away from the beast," Gryffindor commanded. "You may be attached to it, but you can't keep magical creatures in a muggle village. At least let us stun it so it doesn't attack you!"  
  
Harry closed his eyes wearily. The day hadn't started yet, and already he was on the verge of exploding from frustration. "Listen, oh great Founders, this is the Twentieth Century. We have something here called 'technology', and this 'beast' is a product of technology. It's made of metal . . . er . . . iron?, and it's most definitely NOT alive."  
  
"You mean it won't attack us?" Hufflepuff inquired, hesitantly approaching the car.  
  
"NO," Harry repeated. "It's completely inanimate. It's just a . . . a . . . a wagon! Like a wagon, except it moves by itself, using 'technology', like I said before."  
  
The other three founders followed Hufflepuff to the car, and began poking and prodding it suspiciously with their wands. "You sit in it, then?" Ravenclaw asked in fascination. "And it moves? Without horses?"  
  
"YES," Harry insisted. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get to school." He opened the door and climbed inside, turned the key and started the engine. "I'll see you later . . . or not . . ." For as Harry turned on the car, the founders had discovered how to operate the door handles and had taken a seat in the back.  
  
"You can't get in my car!" he protested.  
  
"And why not?" Ravenclaw demanded crisply.  
  
"Because I'm going to school! You can't come to school? I was joking last night!"  
  
"Well, we're coming whether you like it or not, young man. Start your invisible horses, and we can go to your Tall School, or whatever you called it."  
  
"HIGH school," Harry replied irritably. "What are you going to do, pretend to be students or something?"  
  
Hufflepuff suddenly started bouncing up and down, shaking the whole car. "Oh! Can we? That would be SO much fun!"  
  
"If it will get you to be quiet," Slytherin snapped at the ecstatic woman, who ignored him as if she were used to his rude demeanor. Which she probably was.  
  
"Fine." Ravenclaw agreed. "We will pose as students at Harry's school, so we can watch him throughout the day. Glamour spells on the count of three, please. One, two, three . . ."  
  
Harry, half-turned in his seat, watched in awe as the four middle-aged people transformed into younger, more attractive versions of themselves. Their clothes had changed as well, he noticed, and what were once 10th century garments were now low-rise jeans (for the girls) and baggy cargo pants (for the guys). Harry almost choked; never in his wildest dreams had he imagined he'd be in the same car as Rowena Ravenclaw, with her wearing a halter-top. And, worse, she was hot!  
  
Ugh! The woman was a thousand years old! Mind out of the gutter, Harry told himself firmly. Turning resolutely forward, Harry sped off towards Stonewall High, doing his best to ignore the shrieks of terror from the back seat. Finally, five ear splitting minutes later, the crowded Ford Anglia pulled into the pot-hole filled drive of Stonewall High School, the local comprehensive.  
  
The founders stared in awe at the large, square, brick building adults called school and children called prison. "Look at the tiny stone blocks it's made of!" Ravenclaw gasped. "I've never seen that type of rock before!"  
  
"It's called brick," Harry supplied as he got out of the car. Opening the door for Ravenclaw, he couldn't help but laugh as she fell face-first onto the cement sidewalk. Well, honestly, it was her fault for transfiguring her shoes into six-inch stilettos! "Easy there, Miss Ravenclaw . . ." he said as Gryffindor gallantly helped the flustered woman to her feet.  
  
Slytherin glanced up at the building with distaste. "Pah. It's not so big. Doesn't hold a candle to Hogwarts."  
  
Harry laughed. "I should take you to New York, then. One glance at the Empire State Building, and you'll be singing a different tune."  
  
"I do not sing," Slytherin informed him icily. "Nor do I dance. That is for pompous prats like Godric to do." Harry shrugged. The man was really starting to annoy him; he was too much like Snape for Harry's taste.  
  
"This is my school, Stonewall High." Harry informed the quartet. "If you really want to . . . er . . . attend school, you'll have to register in the office. Just before you do that, though, I'd like to make a last ditch attempt to have you go away and leave me alone."  
  
"No time." Ravenclaw snapped. "The day is young, and there is much to do. Besides, boy, we're staying whether you like it or not."  
  
Enraged, Harry began hotly, "First of all, my name is not Boy, it's HARRY. And secondly-"  
  
"Secondly," Gryffindor interrupted. "You will address us by our given names; Godric, Rowena, Salazar, and Helga."  
  
"None of this 'Miss Ravenclaw' nonsense." Rowena snapped. Harry was going to argue, but a quick glance at his watch told him he had ten minutes till homeroom started.  
  
"You know what? Fine. Come with me, I'll point out the office, but then I have to get to class." As Harry swept away, the founders easily fell into step behind him, taking in the behavior of 20th century teenagers with awe, amusement, and sometimes disgust. Helga was especially amused by a congregation of punks – complete with hot-pink mohawks – smoking small cylinders that made a few of them cough rather sickeningly every few seconds. Rowena's nose wrinkled with distaste, and muttered something about giving them detention if she were headmaster of the school.  
  
As they ascended the front steps, Harry decided an impromptu tour was in need. Seated cross-legged in the middle of the stairs was a brown eyed and haired girl, wearing dull clothes that had been in fashion about ten years ago. She stared blankly into space, unmoving, humming a tuneless song, hands folded neatly in her lap. The founders gaped at her.  
  
"Is that girl quite alright?" Rowena demanded of Harry, who shrugged.  
  
"No one really knows, to tell you the truth. Her name is Carla Simmons, and as long as anyone can remember she's been sitting in that exact spot, unmoving. Even the administration doesn't know why she's here; rumor has it she was expelled five years ago for some unknown reason, and now sits there day after day as she plans out her revenge."  
  
Four pairs of eyebrows raised.  
  
"That seems a tad . . . farfetched," said Godric. Harry laughed.  
  
"Yeah, well, if you think SHE's weird, wait till you meet the rest of the school."  
  
They continued into the building, stopping at the office so Rowena could register herself and her three companions. As it turned out, Rowena managed to get them assigned to the same classes as Harry took, meaning he was stuck with them the ENTIRE day.  
  
"Figures you'd pull a trick like that." Harry grumbled as he led the group to homeroom, which also happened to be his Drama class. "Oh, stop here! We need to see the Baron about some lockers for you four."  
  
"Lockers?" Helga questioned.  
  
"When you get your books and things," Harry explained. "You'll need somewhere to put them. Ah, here we go." He led them through a set of swinging doors, down a dirty staircase, and into an alcove just beside the base of the stairs. Inside the alcove was a rather sinister looking boy seated comfortably on a large red armchair, who was eating what looked like a turkey leg.  
  
"Umm . . . hi?" Godric offered, but thankfully Harry took charge.  
  
"This is Steve Winston, known around Stonewall as the Locker Baron."  
  
"Pleased to meet you," Baron Steve said regally, waving a hand pompously. "Here for more lockers, Potter? I recently acquired some excellent real estate up by the science pod hallway, you interested?"  
  
Harry waved the boy off. "No thanks, Baron. My friends need a locker, though."  
  
The boy wiped his spectacles and shifted forward on his armchair. "New students, eh? Well, the science pod lockers need to be filled, so what are you wanting? Three lockers apiece? I could get you some nice ones down by the gym if you like – just won them in a bet off Lord Brian."  
  
"Lord Brian was the former Locker Baron of the school," Harry explained, fully aware of how ridiculous the whole situation was. Then again, the students of Stonewall were muggles, which would explain a lot in Harry's opinion. "Baron Steve just recently won the whole 200 series of lockers off him, and is eager to have them filled. Mainly to assert his rule over the lockers in the school, but also just to hack Brian off."  
  
The quartet stared at the two boys. "Er . . .just one locker will be fine, thanks . . ." Rowena said hesitantly. The Baron beamed at Rowena, who looked rather bewildered.  
  
"Excellent! Four lockers, then. I'll call you for your payment later. Good day."  
  
"That means we're dismissed," Harry supplied, dragging the quartet into one of the more trafficked areas of the school. Rowena rounded on him furiously.  
  
"How can you attend this . . . this . . . madhouse! You gave up magic and Hogwarts for THIS?"  
  
"Thank you," Harry returned, equally angry, "but I don't need you questioning how I run my life! I chose this place for my own reasons, and even if it is a bit . . . strange, I like it! Now come on, class is starting!"  
  
Harry strode furiously off down the hall, the time-travelers trailing behind him. Helga sighed. "That boy is as stubborn as you, Godric. I'm starting to think he'll never accept the powers!"  
  
"Of course he will," Salazar snapped. "The boy isn't stupid; he'll come around eventually."  
  
"Definitely." Rowena agreed immediately. "Don't fret, Helga. Harry knows just as well as we do that he belongs at Hogwarts." They stopped outside a classroom door, which bore the numbers 146 on a small panel. Harry took a deep breath.  
  
"Well, here goes nothing . . ."  
  
Godric eyed him. "You can't run forever, you know."  
  
Harry shrugged. "That's what Dumbledore said."  
  
"Then he's a smart man."  
  
"Smartest man I know. But do you know what I told him?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I said that I may not be able to run forever, but I will do whatever takes to run for as long as I can. I may not be able to escape my destiny, but I can damn well try."  
  
Godric frowned. "I somehow doubt you said that."  
  
Harry shrugged again. "No, I didn't, but I would have, had I not been so pissed off."  
  
Salazar laughed harshly. "You are a fool to run from your destiny."  
  
Harry's eyebrow arched. "And what would YOU know of destiny and running?"  
  
Before Salazar could reply, the bell rang loudly, signaling the start of first period. Sighing, Harry motioned the quartet inside, inwardly cursing life for all the curve balls it threw him. He'd deal with the founders later. First priority was passing his drama presentation, the topic of which he hadn't yet picked. His drama teacher, Ms Smith, apparently sensed his un-preparedness.  
  
"Why don't you start off the presentations that are worth 10% of your final mark, Mister Potter?"  
  
Harry groaned as he slowly stood up, ignoring the founders, who were in hysterics over the pencil sharpener. This was going to be a LONG day.  
  
To be continued . . .  
  
A/N: Well? Whatcha think? I wasn't really sure how to proceed with this story, but I think I've hit upon a way. Harry and the founders will hang at Stonewall for a while, but they will re-enter the wizarding world soon, so don't worry! REVIEW! 


	3. A Day in the Life of a Teenager

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

The Power Within

Chapter Three: A Day in the Life of a Teenager

"Move it, Potter," Ms Smith snapped. "I don't have all day." Harry winced as he scurried up to the front of the Drama classroom, ignoring the confused glances the four founders of Hogwarts were sending his way. "Back straight, head up, Potter. You can hardly deliver a monologue looking like a stoned drunkard."

"Madam!" Godric protested loudly. "That was completely uncalled for!"

"Professors and students must have a certain respect between them, or neither party will learn from each other," Rowena added. Ms Smith stared at the duo incredulously.

"Potter, you came in with these smart alecks. Who are they?"

"Er . . . friends of mine from . . . er . . . Canada. They just moved here."

Ms Smith raised an eyebrow. "Canada, hmm? Is it true they say 'eh' at the end of every sentence?"

The quartet exchanged bewildered glances, before finally noticing Harry's frantic nodding up at the front of the class. "Er . . . that's correct . . ." Rowena tried.

"Eh!" Helga added happily. The other three glared at her, but Ms Smith seemed satisfied, and returned her attention to Harry, who was frantically creating a monologue on the spot. Rowena spotted his obvious quick thinking, and, hoping to earn some respect in the boy's eyes so he would listen to her and accept his powers, spoke up.

"Er, Miss, what does this monologue entail, precisely?"

Ms Smith apparently adored being in the spotlight, because she immediately launched into a monologue of her own. "This assignment is the term project, and worth 10% of the final grade. Students must create a monologue on the subject of their choice, and present it to the class on the date of MY choosing. I won't have those useless slackers trying to put off the presentations until I forget about them. Sly little buggers – never trust a word they say to you, girl, because they'll only stab you in the back . . ."

Godric and Rowena exchanged a glance. The woman was not only prejudiced and insulting, she also highly distrustful of the world in general. And Harry willingly surrounded himself with these nutcases . . . why?

"Right." Ms Smith snapped impatiently. "You're clearly stalling for time, beaver girl. Potter, start your presentation NOW." The quartet were now more confused than ever. Why were they being likened to beavers, and what on earth was Canada anyway? The woman was not only a rude, obnoxious cow, she was also insane!

"Right." Harry replied miserably. There went his drama mark, straight down the drain. Or maybe not . . . "My monologue's topic is . . . fantasy and imagination. I will be telling you the tale of a young boy who, through the help of magical owls and a motorcycle-riding giant, discovers he's a wizard and enters the mysterious world of Magic!" He looked to Ms Smith for approval, and she gave it, although she looked quite displeased about the whole thing. Apparently, magic wasn't her cup of tea.

"Once upon a time there was a young boy named . . . James Porter, who from the tender young age of two, had been living with his abusive aunt, uncle, and cousin, all of whom hated the very ground he walked on . . ."

.::.

"Excellent story, Harry, I very much enjoyed it," Helga complimented Harry as they trudged out of class an hour later. "It was quite clever, using the magical world as the basis for your plot. James Porter seemed so realistic – it was almost as if he actually existed!"

"He does," Harry replied shortly. "He's me. That entire story was true."

"All of it?" Rowena demanded, aghast.

"That's right," he snapped. "Want to make something of it?" he demanded, temper rising rapidly. Now they would either ridicule him or pity him, and he couldn't stand the thought of either. He'd left the wizarding world to escape the pity, for God's sake!

"Stop snapping. You clearly don't want our pity, and you won't be getting it. You don't talk about your horrific past, and we won't either." Salazar stated, peering at the passing students suspiciously. "Evil looking lot, aren't they?"

Harry snorted. "Oh yeah, like YOU'RE one to talk!"

"What is that supposed to mean?" the man asked icily, arching an eyebrow. Harry mentally berated himself. None of the quartet knew yet that Salazar . . . no, Slytherin! would turn evil and leave the school, and Harry certainly wouldn't be the one to ruin the surprise.

"Oh, nothing. You just seem the evil sort to me," he replied, smiling innocently up at the dark haired man, who glared at him evilly. "You see? If you didn't glare so much, Salazar, you wouldn't look half as evil as you do now."

"The boy has a point," Helga said approvingly. "I've been telling you for years to change your image, maybe cut your hair . . . speaking of which . . ."

Throughout this whole episode, Godric had discovered the main problem associated with baggy pants – the fact that they were constantly falling down. If watching Godric Gryffindor waddle down the hall, clutching at his pants in an attempt to remain decent, didn't amuse Harry, then nothing would.

"Instead of laughing," said Godric, "you could make an effort to help me out here."

"Why would we do that?" Rowena asked, giggling. Sure, she was a middle-aged woman on the inside, but on the outside she was a teenaged girl, and was entitled to act like it if she so chose. Of course, she had no more experience with modern clothing than Godric did.

Salazar, Godric, and Harry immediately averted their eyes as the woman bent over to help Godric fasten his pants, giving them a more-than-generous view of her cleavage. Normally Harry, being a teenage boy, would have goggled at the sight, but this was Rowena Ravenclaw! Some decorum was expected!

"That's it!" Harry shouted, fed up. "Helga, conjure up a belt and give it to Godric. And for God's sake take off those stilettos, or you're going to kill yourself. Rowena, just . . . here, take my jacket, and keep it on at all times. The last thing we need is hundreds of lecherous eyes on you everywhere you go. Honestly, how you four managed to build Hogwarts is a mystery to me!"

Once the quartet were sorted out – Salazar hadn't needed any help, as his jeans were so tight fitting they couldn't possibly fall down without assistance – Harry, shaking his head, dutifully started off to his next class, ignoring the founder's antics as much as possible. He nearly lost it completely when Helga was squirted by the broken water fountain, screamed shrilly and hexed the fountain to Australia. Literally. Three days later he would hear on the news that a water fountain came flying out of the sky near Sydney, Australia, nearly killing three humans and injuring a small duck.

As they turned into the hallway that led to Harry's locker, as well as the History Pod, Harry suddenly screeched to a halt, eyeing something distrustfully. "What is it, Harry?" Helga inquired, and Harry gestured swiftly towards a black-clothed figure who, sensing they'd spotted him, immediately vanished from sight.

"Who is he?" Rowena asked, intrigued by the man's antisocial behavior.

"That is the man who haunts the school every night when everyone else has left," Harry whispered. "Some people think he doesn't even exist, but to those of us who've seen him, he's VERY real. They say he lurks in the basement during the day, planning sinister plots of world domination, and at night, when no one is around, he sneaks up to the upper level and . . ."

". . . and what?!" Helga exclaimed.

". . . and . . ." Harry continued mysteriously. ". . . he cleans the school!"

Rowena snorted. "Talk about anti-climactic, Harry."

"They call him the Janitor," Harry told her seriously. "And you may laugh now, Rowena, but students who've seen him at night claim he has with him an army of monsters with which he will one day attack the school, followed by the world."

"You can't POSSIBLY believe this," Salazar stated flatly. "It's complete nonsense."

"Maybe," Harry agreed, "but it's fun to think about, isn't it? Come on, oh great founders, class is starting, and Mr Grant won't wait."

"What does this Grant teach, Harry?" Godric asked.

"History."

.::.

"Welcome to our class, strangers!" the man known as Mr Grant told the founders cheerfully, ushering them into the classroom. "Class, greet our newest members!" There was an indistinguishable mumble, but not much else.

"Cheery lot, these," Godric whispered to Helga, who swatted at him reprovingly.

"Take a seat, take a seat. That's right. Now then, where were we? Ah yes! The first landing on the moon! Can anyone tell me about the moon landing?"

Harry, knowing that no one else would, raised his hand. The students of Stonewall hated school with a passion, and thus even the most brilliant person turned into a mindless drone when he entered a classroom. "The first landing was executed by Neil Armstrong, who, along with Buzz Aldrin, landed on the moon on-"

"LIES!" Mr Grant howled. "ALL LIES! They never landed on the moon, that's just what NASA WANTS you to think! They faked the moon landing just so they could receive more funding for their REAL project. THE ULTIMATE PROJECT!"

"What's that?" Rowena asked, avidly taking notes, assuming the man was right just because he was the teacher.

"THEY AREN'T HUMAN!" Mr Grant shouted hysterically. "NASA is really a front for an ALIEN ORGANIZATION! They infiltrated NASA and killed or brainwashed all the employees, turning them into mindless drones. They're using our satellite system to gain access to every major organization on the world, and once they have that, they will DESTROY US ALL! COMPLETE, UTTER ANIHILATION!"

No one really knew quite what to say.

.::.

"I have reached a conclusion," Salazar announced as Harry led them down to the Cafetorium. "Every single muggle in this ENTIRE building is out of his or her mind. There is not a shred of sanity in this entire school, save us five."

"That's not true!" Harry protested as they entered the cafeteria, passing by a boy crawling around on his knees, bleating like a goat and stealing people's shoes. "Alright, maybe a little . . . alright there, Billy?"

"Mehhh!" the boy agreed, crawling off in hot pursuit of a cheerleader's hot pink sneaker, bleating loudly.

"Okaaaay . . ." said Godric.

"They aren't all like that," Harry reassured them, sitting down at a nearby table and gesturing for the founders to do the same. "May I present the only sane student in this entire school: Sasha."

The blond haired, blue eyed girl eyed the four newcomers suspiciously. "Hi, Harry. Who're the new kids?"

"Helga, Rowena, Salazar, and Godric." Harry offered, purposely omitting their last names, just in case. "They're my friends from Canada."

Her baby blue eyes, hidden behind thick lines of mascara, twinkled much like Dumbledore's did when he was particularly pleased. "Nice to meet you, newbies. Sasha Ramirov, resident philosopher, bookworm, and psychologist. I'm a woman of many talents, so either learn to like it or get out."

"I like this girl," Salazar approved, obviously quite taken with the fast talking blond, which wasn't all that surprising, since the girl seemed as dark and mysterious as Salazar was. "So what's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?"

She stared at him. "I'm not even going to ask you not to hit on me, buddy. You try it, and I'll castrate you. Got that?"

Godric flushed, smacking his fellow founder upside the head. Taking Sasha's hand and placing a kiss on it, he proclaimed loudly, "Never fear, milady, the rogue shall not bother you again with his unwanted attentions."

Sasha eyed him in amusement. "I like this guy, Harry. You can keep him."

"Er . . . thanks, I guess."

"Don't mention it."

Godric's stomach growled loudly, as he hadn't eaten in two days. Harry winced and gestured towards Sasha. "Come on, Sash, let's go get some food for ourselves. Godric's going to die of starvation if we don't. Er . . . you guys don't have to come with us . . . in fact, don't. I don't even want to see your reaction to the lunch lady. Just wait here, and we'll be back in a sec, kay?"

"Bye," Helga waved at Harry dismissively as the duo walked off. Beside her, Rowena wasn't pleased in the least.

"This girl will complicate matters quite nicely," she stated darkly.

"Why?" Godric demanded. "I thought her a thoroughly pleasant girl. A bit on the violent side, but otherwise soundly minded."

"You would think that, wouldn't you?" Salazar hissed at the burly man, who chuckled and taunted, "Oooh, is Salazar jealous? I think he is! Oooh, poor ickle baby . . ." He would have continued, had it not been for the fact that Salazar had transfigured him into a mouse.

"Shut up, you obnoxious prat, and I'll put you right," he told the mouse viciously, who squeaked angrily at the glaring man, attempting to bite his hand and failing miserably.

"Honestly!" Rowena exclaimed, zapping Godric back to his normal state. "Sasha Ramirov will seriously complicate things!"

"How so?" Helga asked, shoving Godric into his seat so he couldn't attack the smirking Salazar.

"We thought the only thing keeping Harry from accepting his powers was his innate fear of people being harmed because of him! We thought that if we could help him overcome that, help him realize the powers would HELP him, not hinder him, then he'd accept them and return to the wizarding world, but Sasha puts a whole new spin on things. He's made friends here, which means he'll consider how it will affect them before he accepts the powers, and we all know how important friends are to Harry. If that Sasha girl seems to need him here, then he won't budge, because a friend is in need, and Harry can't help but help them."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Salazar asked. "Off the Ramirov girl?"

"Of course not," Rowena said, shocked at the suggestion. "We'll just have to show Harry that he'll help her more by leaving than by staying."

"And how do we do that?"

She sighed. "Only God knows, my friend. For once in my life, I don't have all the answers. And who left this sandwich here?" she demanded, flinging the offending food into what Harry claimed was a 'trash can'.

At that point Harry and Sasha reappeared, loaded down with heavy trays of food, meaning the founder's conversation effectively ended then. The six ate their meal quickly, chatting occasionally about the school, the weather, anything interesting, cleaned up their table and headed off towards their next class, Harry's being Science, Sasha's being History with Mr Grant.

"Have fun!" Harry called after Sasha as she strode away. "She's just terrific, isn't she?" Beside him, Rowena and Godric exchanged glances.

"You see?" Rowena demanded in a whisper. "She's going to ruin everything!"

"At least no one heard our conversation at lunch," Godric said consolingly. "As long as we keep these conversations to ourselves, so Harry doesn't suspect we're plotting behind his back, everything should go just fine."

As the quintet walked off down the hall, no one noticed the small sandwich lying carelessly in a nearby trash can, listening to every word that passed through their lips. The sandwich, it's spying complete, hopped out of the can and waddled into a crack in the wall, feeling the contentment that came with a job well done. Inside he found the sandwich that had positioned itself on the Potter boy's lunch table. Together they laughed maniacally. Their master would be pleased with their findings.

.::.

". . . and by adding these elements together, you create something known in laymen's terms as Salt," Mr Brown explained, writing out the chemical equation on the blackboard behind him for the students to copy. Before entering the class, Harry had told the founders that Science was his favorite class, mainly because the teacher was so incredibly NORMAL it was refreshing just to be in his presence. The only other thing he'd told them was to stay away from the large cupboard beside the blackboard, but as he hadn't given them a reason why, Rowena had told the others to just pay attention to the lesson and forget about the cupboard. You'd think they'd have learned to listen to him by now, Harry thought as he copied down the equation. Well, they would see.

Mr Brown was speaking again. "Miss Ravenclaw, if you could please retrieve a triple beam balance, so I can give you a practical demonstration of this equation."

Rowena got up from her desk, pulling Harry's jacket tighter around herself when she caught so many boys eyes on her. "Where is this . . . er . . . beam apparatus, Mr Brown?"

"Triple beam balance, Miss Ravenclaw. It's in the cupboard beside the blackboard."

Unfortunately for Rowena, and to Harry's complete horror, there were two cupboards, one on either side of the blackboard, and Rowena unwittingly chose the exact cupboard Harry had warned her to stay away from. As she pulled open the doors, Mr Brown gasped, screaming, "NO! Not the CUPBOARD! AHHHH!" and he ran out of the room in abject terror, all prior sanity forgotten. Rowena was shocked at the man's reaction, and peered into the cupboard to see what on earth had provoked it. What was inside nearly made her shriek.

The inside clearly hadn't been cleaned out in ages, meaning it was infested with cobwebs, as well as a grotesque smell. That wasn't all, though. The cupboard also housed a skeleton replica of the human body, propped up against the cupboard side, mouth set in a mocking grin. Beside it on the floor sat an impossibly small boy with pale skin and black hair, roasting what looked like a rat over a Bunsen burner. He looked up when Rowena gasped softly, and gave her a haunting grin.

"A visitor!" he exclaimed. "Come in, pretty girl, come live with me in my cupboard. You'll never be lonely again, not with Humphrey as your companion. Would you like some rat?" Rowena, not knowing whether he was referring to himself or the grinning skeleton, slammed the door shut with a shriek, falling backwards into Godric's arms, who'd run up in case she needed 'rescuing'.

"Good Lord!" she said, pushing herself to her feet. "Who on earth was THAT?"

"The Skeleton man," a small girl in the front row said, glasses glinting mysteriously. "He lives in the closet with Humphrey, feeding off the rats that crawl into the cupboard's dark corners. They say the skeleton, Humphrey, was once actually a living man, who the Skeleton man murdered in a jealous rage, and toasted his body parts one by one in the light of the Bunsen burner's blue flame."

Rowena's eyebrows raised. "You certainly have a lot of superstitions at your school, don't you?"

"How can the Skeleton man be a superstition if you just saw him?" the girl demanded. "Mr Brown knows he exists, has known it for years, and is terrified of him. They say the man killed was Mr Brown's BROTHER!"

"That's why we NEVER OPEN THE CUPBOARD," Harry told them pointedly. "Maybe next time you'll listen to me. Geez."

Salazar, sitting at the back of the room, began banging his head against the desk. They needed to get out of this madhouse soon, or Salazar was going to go insane. Then again, he was in this nuthouse by his own choice, wasn't he? Perhaps he already was mad.

.::.

Whilst Harry whiled his time away in the muggle world, experiencing the wonders of muggle High School and, more recently, the arrival of the Founders of Hogwarts, things hadn't been going quite as well in the wizarding world. Okay, scratch that. Things were going terribly.

Upon learning from Dumbledore that Harry had left their world for good, Hermione and Ron had immediately gone through the Three Stages of Shock. First, disbelief.

"That's impossible," Hermione had told Dumbledore reprovingly. "Harry wouldn't do that. He knows how much he's needed!"

"Harry's too smart to let Sirius's death get to him," Ron agreed. "We're his friends, we'll help him out. Just because he wasn't at the Sorting feast doesn't mean he's left."

Then, anger.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE'S REALLY GONE! WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP HIM! YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED HIM! YOU JUST LET HIM RUN OFF TO LIVE WITH HIS GUILT WITHOUT A CARE IN THE WORLD!" Hermione shrieked.

Then, finally, acceptance.

"He's really gone," Ron said sadly. "He left. Where does that leave us?"

"We'll just make do as best we can," Hermione said firmly. "When he's ready to come back, he will, and we'll welcome him with open arms, but until that time, we'll just have to live without him."

And live they did, but it wasn't nearly as easy as Hermione had made it seem. The school had quickly realized the Dream Team trio was down to only two members, and while most sympathized with the duo, people like Draco Malfoy took it upon themselves to rub it in at every possible opportunity. Needless to say, by the time February rolled around, Ron and Hermione were just about ready to leave Hogwarts and beat some sense into Harry's head. A few weeks of moping was fine, but SIX MONTHS?

And so it was that on February 4th of 1996, Headmaster Dumbledore called the duo up to his office with a permit to leave the school's grounds so that they could locate, corner, and convince Harry Potter to cease his foolishness and return to Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron easily accepted, as they'd been thinking of doing that exact thing, except with Dumbledore's permission, and were slotted to leave a week from that day. They would be travelling by broom, much to Hermione's displeasure, and the following days would be spent discerning the best way to convince Harry to come back with them.

On February 11th, Hermione and Ron snuck up to the Astronomy tower, mounted their brooms, and soared off into the air, filled with hope that finally, after six agonizing months, they would FINALLY see their best friend again.

They should have known better. Nothing is ever as easy as it seems.

To be continued . . .

A/N: Chapter 3 up! You like it? Then review! Oh yes, I'd really like to dedicate this chapter to athenakitty, because she's been following my stories for practically ever, and her reviews are always interesting and insightful, and, well, THANKS!


	4. Big Bob's Burger Bar

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

The Power Within

Chapter Four: Big Bob's Burger Bar

"Hey cutie."

Rowena Ravenclaw turned to look at the poor boy that thought that hitting on her was a clever idea. She was physically and emotionally exhausted. She'd just spent an entire day in the highschool-from-Hell, and had not only been hit upon by 37 different males, including the Gym teacher, but had also discovered that her heir, Harry Potter, had no intention of ever accepting the super powers she and her fellow founders were attempting to bestow upon him. Needless to say, she pitied the poor fool who got in her way.

The brunette jock apparently didn't pick up on her foul mood. "Hey, doll, I'm talking to you. Whaddya say you and I ditch these loser friends of yours and go get busy somewhere?"

Wordlessly, Rowena raised her hand and smacked the boy full across the face, forcing him to stumble back in pain. Ignoring his roar of anger, too caught up in her own irritation at the world in general, Rowena proceeded to deliver a roundhouse kick to the jock's chest, sending him flying across the parking lot to land in a heap at the feet of a group of giggling cheerleaders.

"She's in a very bad mood," Harry observed as he watched Rowena kick the crap out of Ben Porter, Stonewall's Boxing Champion. He would never live this humiliation down, getting beaten up by a girl, and Harry, who'd been verbally assaulted by the jock many times before, frankly couldn't care less if Rowena decided to beat the boy into a bloody pulp.

All good things must come to an end, however, and this particular event ended when Ben, clutching his broken nose and sobbing, stumbled off towards the school, ears red from the humiliation he'd just experienced.

"Hmph," Rowena huffed, dusting off her hands, a job well done. "Perhaps next time that boy will think before using such vulgar pick-up lines on a woman of my status. 'Cutie'. Bah!"

"Is she always like this?" Harry asked as he, Godric, Rowena, Helga, and Salazar climbed into his rusty old Ford Anglia.

"Not always," Helga volunteered. "Only when she's extremely stressed. And after today, how could she not be? I think I've gained about five gray hairs, and I'm barely thirty!"

"I'm sure they'll make you look lovelier than ever," Godric said graciously. Helga blushed prettily and swatted at his arm.

"Honestly, Godric, you could make a nun blush."

"We didn't come this way this morning," Salazar observed suspiciously as Harry turned left rather than right coming out of the school parking lot.

"We're going to Big Bob's Burger Bar," Harry explained.

"Pardon, but did you say 'Big Bob'?" Salazar asked in disgust. "It sounds like some primitive tribal leader."

"And what on earth is a 'burger'?" Rowena asked in her never-ceasing quest for knowledge.

"Er . . . a sandwich, sort of. I work there, at Big Bob's." Harry explained, pulling into the strip mall parking lot. "People just call it BBBB; it's apparently easier than Big Bob's Burger Bar."

"True," Rowena agreed, having visibly calmed down from the day's ordeals. She had been fine up until the Humphrey incident, after which everything had gone downhill. There were no freak-encounters with the mysterious denizens of Stonewall high after that, but her nerves were already frayed from Harry's refusal to accept his powers, and just the daily stresses of high school nearly made her blow a gasket.

"What do you do there?" Helga asked as the five piled out of the car. Harry, locking up the car, or at least attempting to, as the key barely fit into the lock through the layers of rust, shrugged.

"I make burgers, mostly. Sometimes. When I'm in the mood."

"Doesn't your boss mind that you make… er… burgers only when you want to?"

"Not really. He's too busy giving motivational speeches to the staff, who, incidentally, do nothing as well. Come on in the BBBB and I'll show you. I'll even give you each a burger, free of charge. My manager won't mind. Come on."

"This should be interesting," Godric predicted as they entered the small, squarish gray building that was BBBB.

"Harry!" a boy wearing what was presumably the BBBB uniform called. "The boss is calling a meeting in twenty minutes, so be ready!"

"Thanks, Wally," Harry replied absently as he slipped behind the counter of the burger bar and pulled on a ridiculously bright orange apron that proudly bore the letters 'BBBB'. Turning to the puzzled founders, he slipped back out from behind the counter and led them to a nearby table. "I'll be right back with some burgers. You all must be hungry."

"Extremely," Rowena agreed as Harry headed back to the counter. "Isn't he going to tell us what is on the menu?"

Wally snickered. "This is a fast food place, Miss. The menu's behind us on the wall, and you come to the counter to order. We're certainly not going to spend our valuable time carting food right to your table!"

As Harry returned with four sloppily wrapped burgers, the stress was evident in his face. "You're lucky you're the Founders of Hogwarts," he said as he handed the burgers out. "I haven't done this much work in the past three months. The boss is going to turn this sudden burst of burger-making enthusiasm against me, you can count on it."

"Mmmm… these are very good!" Godric sighed happily as he bit into his burger.

"Isn't it your JOB to make burgers?" Rowena demanded.

Harry blinked. "Well, yes, technically, but mostly we 'empowered' employees of BBBB just sit around in meetings all day and let the Co-op students do all the work."

Rowena's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

Harry shrugged. "Co-op students are kids sent by the school to work here for free in order to gain valuable work experience that they can use in later life."

"So you're telling me the paid employees do nothing, while the volunteers slave away?" Salazar asked in interest. "That's an intriguing idea, you know. Perhaps we could set up something like that at Hogwarts-"

"Be quiet and eat your burger, Salazar," Rowena snapped. "It's like a humane form of slavery, and I will not have slavery at my school!"

"Well, if you're going to take that tone with me…" Salazar snarled.

"Tone? The only tone I hear is the one YOU are using, you… you rat!"

"RAT?" Salazar howled. "That's nothing compared to what YOU are…"

Harry sighed and retreated back behind the counter as the two began a furious argument over what disgusting animal they could be compared to. Beside him, Wally asked quietly, "Are they always like that?"

"Yeah," Harry replied gloomily. The fact that he could formulate such an opinion of the four after knowing them for only two days spoke volumes.

"Meeting time," a new voice announced, belonging to none other than Sasha Ramirov, Harry's friend/psychologist/study buddy. "Did you bring the donuts?"

"I've got 'em," Wally announced, pulling a box of two dozen assorted donuts from his bag. "Where are those blasted co-op kids?"

"I think they're cleaning up a spill by table five," Harry replied. "I'll go get them."

He sauntered over to table five, where two co-op students were laying sprawled on the dirty floor, unmoving. "Er… what are you doing?"

"Ramirov said that when something was spilled, it was our job to throw ourselves on the liquid before it spread," one of the students volunteered, shifting an arm so the spilled coke didn't seep into Harry's old, beaten up running shoe.

Harry blinked. "Oh. Well, er, good job, then. Keep it up, kids."

"Thank you, sir!" they chorused.

"Well?" Sasha asked once Harry had gotten back behind the counter.

"They're cleaning up table five," Harry replied absently. "I don't suppose you know who spilled the coke in the first place?"

Wally giggled. "I couldn't help it. It's just SO fun to see the fools fling themselves across the room just because we told them to. It gives you such a sense of power…"

"Meeting time," Sasha interrupted. "Let's go."

The trio abandoned the counter and headed into the back room, a.k.a. the Meeting Room. Taking their places around the un-necessarily large rectangular table, they turned in feigned interest towards their manager, known simply as The Boss. He was a large, overweight man with pointy hair and the most obnoxious voice you could possibly imagine, and his life was devoted to "motivating" his employees.

"It's our responsibility to locally restore interdependent paradigms and efficiently enhance competitive meta-services to stay competitive in tomorrow's world," he said by way of greeting.

"Did anyone understand that?" Harry whispered as he munched on a donut.

"Does anyone ever?" Sasha replied sarcastically.

"I don't think that was even relevant to our restaurant," Wally added.

"First on the agenda is the budget analysis," the Boss announced, ignoring his employee's whispering. "This is where you tell my why your special, BBBB-related project should receive funding, and I give you money according to how important you make your project sound. Wally, you want to start?"

Puffing out his chest, Wally announced, "My project is to discover the ratio between the amount of French fries produced per year, versus the amount of toxic waste in China."

"And why should I give you money?"

"Er… um... because," Wally stammered, "because if you don't, the world will... implode! And all the French poodles will die terrifying deaths! Plus, your wife will leave you."

The boss looked aghast. "I'd better give you funding, then. Unless you can top his proposal, Sasha?"

"Well," she began, "my project is to create a hamburger made of dirt."

"Sounds completely useless to our company," the Boss agreed, pleased. "Why should I give you money?"

"Because if you DO," she replied, trying a different tact, "you'll make millions of dollars, and become Supreme Ruler of the Universe."

'Impressive', Harry thought. 'The man loves power. But I've been researching this for day's, and I know exactly how to get one hundred percent of the funding.'

"My project is to create a no-fat, super-tasty donut that will kill anyone but managers who try to eat it."

The boss looked extremely impressed. "Finally, a donut all for ME!"

"And if you don't give me money," Harry concluded succinctly, "you'll DIE."

The boss turned white. "Right. Harry gets the funding."

Sasha and Wally directed furious glares at their lucky friend.

"Now," the Boss continued. "On to discussing why we haven't had more than ten customers in the past month."

"Good one," Sasha whispered to Harry with something akin to awe. "Combining the two most important things to him – donuts and life – into one presentation. Inspired."

"Self-preservation is a powerful thing," Harry replied. "Believe me, I know."

Harry screamed in terror as the Ford Anglia rounded the corner at 120 mph, clipping a mailbox and nearly running over a plump gray squirrel. He honestly didn't know how he got into situations like this. First Godric had mentioned how nice Harry's car was, and before he knew it, the man was in the driver's seat, speeding along a residential road at almost the speed of sound.

"SLOW DOWN!" Harry bellowed as Godric zoomed down the road, just a few blocks north of Stonewall High. "The speed limit is 50mph! You're going to kill us all!"

"Nonsense," Godric replied calmly, twirling the steering wheel deftly to avoid running over the group of pink mohawk punks they'd encountered earlier. "This is elementary. If I can navigate a wild dragon through a magical storm, I am certainly capable of piloting this metallic contraption on this gray grass without incident."

"Road," Harry corrected, sinking back into his seat with a sigh. Why did he even bother? At least if Godric crashed and killed them all, the Founders might finally leave him alone.

"Oh, hardly," Rowena piped up from the back seat, where she was clutching Salazar's arm in a death grip, who didn't seem too pleased with the arrangement. "We've perfected the method of soul travel through the netherworld. Should we die, it would be a simple matter to locate you, rejoin your company, and spend the rest of eternity in your delightful presence."

"You'll never get rid of us, so deal with it," Salazar snapped, tugging at his arm. "For heaven's sake, Rowena, let go of my arm!" The brunette merely tightened her grip and shrieked as Godric pulled a 360, nearly killing an old lady in the process.

"STOP!" Harry screamed, but to no avail.

Godric increased the speed even more, and Harry realized that his end had finally come. He was going to die, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He only wished he'd had a chance to say goodbye to Hermione and Ron before the end.

Then, an unearthly sound permeated throughout the car, and it squealed to bone-shattering stop, somehow going from 150 mph to 0 mph in less than three seconds. Aside from the fact that such a thing was impossible, Harry discovered that they had stopped in front of none other than the Dursley's house.

"We're alive…" Harry whispered.

"I told you we'd be fine," Godric said smugly. "It isn't so hard to drive this thing. Maybe when we get back to our time, I could make one…"

"Absolutely not!" Rowena bellowed, bashing the bewildered man over the head with her backpack. "Of all the ridiculous things to do, driving a jar without a license!"

"Car," Harry corrected, helping a rather pale Helga out of the car.

"It could be a chicken, for all I care," Salazar snapped. "So long as I NEVER have to ride in one again!"

Harry's ears perked up. "Well, if you never want to ride in a car again, I guess you can't follow me to school anymore-"

"With Godric as the driver," Salazar finished, giving his heir a nasty glare for trying to slip one past him.

Harry sighed in defeat and trudged up the driveway, absently clicking the locking mechanism on the car's remote control. He wasn't quite sure why a car from the 1950's had a remote control, but there it was.

Bickering, the Founders hurried along behind him, their argument centered around which method of torture would be more successful in convincing Godric to never, EVER drive again. As Harry pulled open the front door of 4 Privet Drive, he was greeted with the abnormally large, purplish face of his Uncle Vernon, who looked severely displeased about something. Harry had a pretty good idea of what was troubling the man.

"Who are these freaks, Potter?" Uncle Vernon bellowed, gesticulating wildly at the four startled time travelers. "I thought you'd flunked out of your freak school! So why did you bring some wackos home with you?"

Salazar dispelled their glamour charms with a wave of his wand, and pulled himself up to his full, and rather intimidating, height. Glaring down at the pudgy man, Salazar informed him icily, "Should you ever insult myself, my acquaintances, or anyone else of wizarding persuasion ever again, you shall lose your tongue. If you ever insult my school again, however, you shall lose your head. Do I make myself clear?"

Uncle Vernon was clearly cowed, but obviously figured that since he outweighed the skinny wizard in front of him, he might stand a chance. "You have some nerve, sir, threatening me in my own home! Why, I've a good mind to call the police on you!"

Salazar smirked evilly. "Go ahead. I certainly won't stop you."

Expecting more of a struggle, the calm retort clearly threw Uncle Vernon. "Er… well then, I shall! And don't you dare try and stop me!"

Salazar blinked. "Did I not just… never mind…"

Uncle Vernon snatched up the phone and dialed the local police. It rang three times, and then a gruff voice said:

"Surrey Police Agency. Officer Murray, here. How can I help you?"

"…" said Uncle Vernon.

Harry exchanged a glance with Helga, who shrugged.

"Sir?" the Officer repeated. "Sir?"

"…" repeated Uncle Vernon.

"Must be a prank call," Murray decided, hanging up.

"…!" said Uncle Vernon.

"What's wrong with him?" Harry asked timidly.

Rowena smirked. "Salazar promised he wouldn't stop your fool of an uncle. He didn't mention anything about me."

Harry gaped at her.

"What?" she snapped defensively. "He insulted our school! You're lucky we didn't turn him into a toad or something."

Helga, Godric, and Salazar nodded their agreement, while Uncle Vernon was getting more and more agitated about his inability to speak. He gestured furiously at Harry, who laughed at held up his hands innocently.

"Sorry, Uncle Vernon, but you know better than I that I can't do magic anymore. You'll have to ask my… er… friends for help with that."

Vernon Dursley seemed absolutely scandalized, as if the thought of asking for help had never occurred to him. He attempted to yell at Harry, but, of course, failed miserably. Finally, he turned to the Founders with a defeated glare and held his hands up as a gesture of peace.

Rowena smiled victoriously. "Right then. We shall remove your fatal curse on the following conditions…"

She paused, for at the word 'fatal', Uncle Vernon had staggered back a step, turned a deathly white, and collapsed in a dead faint. Harry winced, and rushed over to help the fallen man up. The man was family, after all, even if Harry despised every molecule of his body.

As soon as the obese man had returned to the land of consciousness, Rowena continued. "On the following conditions. Firstly, you will NEVER insult Harry, Hogwarts, and the wizarding world in general in our presence. Secondly, you shall treat us with respect and deference, as we deserve. Thirdly, you shall provide us with clothing, shelter, and victuals, until such time as we no longer require your assistance. Are these terms acceptable?"

Uncle Vernon gave them an incredulous look, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing, but he was met with harsh stares, and even he knew when to concede defeat. Shaking his great head miserably, he gestured his agreement to the terms.

"Excellent!" Helga bubbled, flicking her wand to release the silencing spell. She seized his hand and began dragging him off down the hall, completely ignoring his protesting. "It's wonderful doing business with you, Mister Dursley! Harry's told us SO much about you! We're going to have such a wonderful stay here with you! We can cook and tell jokes and play games, and…" The voices trailed off as they rounded the corner out of hearing range.

Harry sighed in relief and collapsed on the flower-patterned sofa. Rowena sat down beside him, while Salazar and Godric disappeared mysteriously. He gave her a long-suffering look, to which she favored him with a sympathetic smile.

"Surely our company isn't that taxing, Harry," she said reasonably, conjuring some Chamomile tea and placing it in Harry's hands. "You know you can accept your powers at any time, and we'll be gone in a twinkling."

"I don't want the powers, can't you understand?" Harry said, sipping the piping hot tea and nearly spitting it out as it burned his tongue. "Gah!… It's not that I don't like you and the, er, Founders, Rowena, I just don't want your powers. I don't want to be famous, I don't want to be the Boy-Who-Lived, and I definitely don't want to be a super powerful wizard! Why can't you understand that?"

"I do," Rowena replied quietly. "But the one thing you don't understand, Harry, is that as much as you don't want to be all those things, you can't help but be them, because it's WHO YOU ARE. You can't change that, anymore than you can change your eye color or height."

Harry blinked. "Aren't there color and height spells that could easily do that?"

"Well, YES," Rowena admitted crossly, "but that isn't the point. You were born to have our powers, just as you were born to defeat the Dark Lord. Why can't you understand and accept that?"

"I don't want to!" he bellowed, surprising even himself. Was he in denial or what?

"I'd certainly say you are," Rowena agreed, reminding Harry again of her irritating telepathic powers. "And that's why we are going to stick around and bother you until you give in and stop being such a stubborn mule about this whole business."

"You'll have to wait a long time," Harry told her. "I'm well known for my stubbornness."

"Oh, you don't have to tell me," Rowena said with an unladylike snort. "You're not the only stubborn one, you know. I've been living with Godric Gryffindor for ten years now, and even though I tell him every single day to leave my bedroom door closed in the mornings, guess what he does?"

"Opens it?" Harry guessed.

"Too true," she muttered ruefully. "But he'll come around, as will you, Harry. Now, what say we find Godric and Salazar and stop them from doing whatever horribly unadvised act they're about to commit?"

"Works for me," Harry agreed, gallantly helping the ancient lady up from her seat, and whisking her teacup away from her before she could put it away herself. Setting it down on the counter, Harry extended his arm to Rowena, who took it with a pleased smile.

Sure enough, as soon as they exited the house, they were treated with the sight of Godric and Salazar furiously chucking baskets at each other, each man balanced precariously on a red rubber ball. Harry couldn't help himself.

"What are you doing?"

"Playing Basket Ball," Godric announced, heaving a large metal basket at Salazar's head.

Harry groaned. He should have known.

To be continued…

A/N: Ta da! Another happy chapter! How'd y'all like the pun at the end, there? Heeheehee… cackles evilly I feel absolutely malicious for saying this, but I LOVE PUNS! I know they're the lowest form of humor, but they're just so… bad! Anyway, Read, Review, and all that jazz. I'll see y'all later!


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